


Morning in Scarborough

by theleaveswant



Category: Flashpoint
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Amnesia, Gen, One of My Favorites, Public Nudity, Toronto, Winter, Zoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long time since Ed last woke up naked in the zoo with no memory of how he got there</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning in Scarborough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [omens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omens/gifts).



> Spur of the moment drabble for Omens, who asked for werewolves and Flashpoint AUs as part of the Snowflake challenge.

It's been a long time since Ed last woke up naked in the zoo with no memory of how he got there--almost thirty years, in fact, since he was fresh-turned, young and confused, and had a much shorter, though still not exactly simple, distance to walk home. It's funny how easily he recognizes where he is, the sounds and smells cluing him in, even before he rolls over and sees the pack of fluffy white arctic wolves watching him warily from higher up the low, grassy hill, and the gridwire of the fence behind them. He's a little scratched up and stiff from sleeping on the cold ground, but seems to be otherwise sound, physically, and he's not covered in anyone else's blood nor can he taste it turning stale, which he takes hopefully as good signs that, as much as it should not have been possible in the first place, he did not get into too much trouble on the way here.

The wolves keep their distance as Ed collects his bearings, perplexed but unafraid. The same cannot be said for the other animals downwind, however; this close to a transformation creatures neither lupine nor human tend to get a little anxious around folks in Ed's situation, and it was the shrill cries of the foxes in the enclosure across the meandering pathway that first penetrated Ed's exhausted slumber.

This regionally themed exhibit didn't exist last time he woke up here; it only opened in 2009, with brand-new habitats for the polar bears and caribou and snowy owls and so on, and Ed remembers from being on the other side of the fence that it's one of the trickier nodes of zoo traffic flow to navigate even when you're not naked, disoriented, probably dehydrated, and possibly injured from attempting to break out of a wolf pen, assuming that you can manage the trick in the first place.

Ed blinks up at the harsh winter sunlight and shivers as his relatively hairless body concedes that it is not equipped to handle the current temperature without external help, then sits up fast when he hears the grumble of a motorized vehicle approaching. A zoo employee in khakis and a heavy brown parka is riding a golf cart along the path on the far side of the exhibit, and Ed pushes up and stumbles towards her as quickly as he can. The cart stutters to a stop and the driver stares at him, a radio crackling at her knee.

"Excuse me," Ed says, and clears his throat. His blunt teeth clack together as he curls his arms around his core, prioritizing warmth over dignity. He smiles as tamely as he can. "May I use your phone?"


End file.
